Gunslinger Girl: Camerata Ep 1 'The Women of Troy'
by RJ Frazer
Summary: Boethius, the last Roman, wrote of the Wheel of Fortune in his Consolations of Philosophy - the crushing mechanism that grinds a scar across mankind to this very day. In an ancient land, the same story is told once more - but whose hand turns that wheel?
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: this story is an experiment at envisioning a screenplay for a future production of _Gunslinger Girl _on television. Presentation of a script is as important as its content, and I would welcome comments from those more experienced with scriptwriting about the quality and accuracy of my formatting._

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><p><strong>GUNSLINGER GIRL: CAMERATA<strong>

**EPISODE ONE – "THE WOMEN OF TROY"**

By

Robert Frazer

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><p>FADE IN - SUPERIMPOSE:<p>

The sons of Dardanus shall come into their kingdom

In Lavinium (put that fear from your mind), but they

Will not enjoy their coming; I see wars, fierce wars, and the

Tiber foaming with much blood.

-VIRGIL

FADE OUT

A black screen.

**JEAN (O.S.)**

(searching)

Enrica? Enrica...

QUICK CUT – JEAN'S POV – ANGLE ON ENRICA

EXT. CROCE MANOR – DAY.

ENRICA is sitting at the base of a tree in the Croce Manor gardens, shaded from the bright sun. She blinks suddenly, disturbed from a daydream by JEAN's words, and turns her head round to face the camera with a surprised expression.

REVERSE ANGLE

Looking past ENRICA to take in JEAN as he stands above her. The sun is bright behind him, and so his face is in shade.

**JEAN**

(gently chiding)

Come on, sleepyhead, the car's ready – there'll be plenty of time to relax on the beach.

JEAN reaches down and helps ENRICA to her feet. Once she is standing, she flops against JEAN in mock exhaustion, but with a happy smile.

**ENRICA**

Oh, Jean – the heat! Carry me.

JEAN tries to peel ENRICA from his leg.

**JEAN**

Now, now, Enrica, don't be daft.

SOFIA and JOSE appear at a door leading into the house, carrying luggage. SOFIA spots JEAN's predicament and intervenes to help.

**SOFIA **

Enrica! Give me a hand with these bags, will you?

ENRICA turns and scampers across the garden to SOFIA.

**ENRICA**

Okay!

ENRICA takes a large wheeled suitcase, and bangs it noisily as she pulls it two handed down the steps before rumbling off down the path. Her straining effort is cute and comically endearing. As she moves past JEAN towards the gate, SOFIA and JOSE stop in front of her older brother. This movement across the garden can provide an opportunity for an aerial shot to take in a larger extent of the Croce Manor's comfortable grounds. As JOSE speaks below, ENRICA runs back and takes a smaller shoulder bag from him, before running out-of-frame again.

**SOFIA**

Are you sure that you two can't come with us? We can't even get a holiday without our time being cut in half.

**JOSE**

(joshing)

Not all of us can wangle a discharge with a half-pension, you know. The men still have to work!

**SOFIA**

(indignant)

Hey-!

JEAN intervenes by catching SOFIA's chin and turning her head towards him. He wears a tight smile.

**JEAN**

Until me and Jose can join you down there – he's a little parting gift.

JEAN kisses SOFIA deeply. JOSE harrumphs and turns away quickly as it becomes a clinch between the two lovers.

ANGLE ON – SOFIA'S ENGAGEMENT RING.

The two break away.

**SOFIA**

Well, that'll keep me going for... oh, a couple of hours.

They both put their heads together and smile.

JOSE walks away from the two impending newlyweds and back towards the door of the manor. As he reaches it, he meets GIOVANNI and CARLA. GIOVANNI, making a clumsy gesture at being endearing and fatherly, reaches out an arm - at full extension – to pat JOSE on the shoulder. JOSE nods glumly, and his head stays low. While his actual words are deferential, he can't keep the bitter edge out of his voice.

**GIOVANNI**

Jose...

(beat)

Serbia – all that fighting – it wasn't right for you. Listen to the minister – he's a friend, he knows what's best.

**JOSE**

Yes, father, you're _always _right.

Any risk of this exchange darkening the atmosphere is dissipated when ENRICA appears, running into the middle of the shot between GIOVANNI and JOSE. She dashes under the arch formed by GIOVANNI's arm.

**ENRICA**

Bullseye! (laughs)

The two adults start back as ENRICA runs back out, pulling another wheelie-case behind her. JOSE and GIOVANNI watch her bang it down the steps, making a nonsense-shout with each clatter, and smile genially. ENRICA is a sweet relief that improves everyone present.

CUT TO a frontal shot of ENRICA near the gate.

**ENRICA**

(happily)

Jean! Jose! I'll see you tomorrow!

REVERSE ANGLE

INT. CROCE MANOR – DAY.

JEAN and JOSE wave goodbye from the door of the house. As ENRICA runs off towards the gate, JEAN closes the door and he and JOSE walk together down the hall.

**JEAN**

Come on, then, let's get changed. I know you're still a bit sore about Dad getting you pulled from the Balkans, but the Minister's got a lot of good jobs to offer...

DISSOLVE TO – EXT. MOTORWAY – DAY – ESTABLISHING.

The Croce car travels down one of Italy's autostrada. This scene closely follows the manga and so it can be used for visual reference of the setting. There is scattered civilian traffic, but most noticeably contrasting with the silver colour of the Croce car are two black unmarked government escort vehicles which remain at a constant distance from the Croce car at all times.

CUT TO the inside of the car. ANGLE ON CARLA.

CARLA turns her head round from the front passenger seat to look into the back of the cabin.

**CARLA**

(chiding)

Girls! Seatbelts, remember?

REVERSE ANGLE

SOFIA and ENRICA are playing in the back seats.

**SOFIA**

Hahah! Okay, alright!

As ENRICA and SOFIA buckle up, GIOVANNI, driving, leans his head towards CARLA.

**GIOVANNI**

Don't be too demanding, Carla. Enrica's fourteen now, let her enjoy her childhood while it lasts.

CARLA winces and chews her lip.

**CARLA**

(hesitant)

Giovanni, dear... Enrica's only just thirteen.

ANGLE ON – GIOVANNI'S EYES

GIOVANNI glances away, chagrined.

**GIOVANNI**

Is that right...?

REVERSE ANGLE.

Focus initially on GIOVANNI's hands (and expensive watch) gripping the steering wheel. Then CUT TO exterior shot of the car as it continues to drive down the motorway.

**GIOVANNI (O.S., CONT'D)**

I'm sorry, dear, work's keeping me so busy that family things sometimes slip my mind...

ANGLE ON – ENRICA LOOKING THROUGH CAR WINDOW.

**ENRICA (THINKING)**

(excited)

I don't believe it! Finally, a real holiday! I can't even remember the last time the family was all together! This will be perfect!

ENRICA turns her had back into the car and looks across to SOFIA, who is looking out of her own window, lost in her own gentle thoughts.

**ENRICA (THINKING)**

I... don't mind that Sofia is sharing in it, too. I said all of those mean and hurtful things to her, but she's turned out to be a nice person after all... just like Jose...

ENRICA speaks aloud.

**ENRICA**

(hesitant)

Um, er, Sofia...?

SOFIA turns her head away from the car and smiles genially and warmly at ENRICA.

**SOFIA**

Yes, Enrica, what's the matter?

Enrica leans across the back seats towards SOFIA, trying to take her into a close, personal, confidence, removing the wall between them.

**ENRICA**

Sofia, I just want to say that I'm—

The car explodes.

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><p>BEGIN OPENING TITLES<p>

The conventional opening titles will not be used for this episode. The following sequence helps to establish the setting. All of the shots simulate television news reports and so have varying sidebars, network idents, tickertapes, captions and deliberate low-resolution artefacts as the viewer surfs between different channels and networks.

MONTAGE

INTERCUT CREDITS ON BLACK BACKGROUNDS BETWEEN SHOTS

Continue to ZOOM OUT slowly from the wreckage of the car. JUMP CUT to a television view of the same scene from the same perspective. The scene now has rescuers and fire crew crawling over it.

**REPORTER (O.S.)**

The whole of Italy stopped in shock and horror yesterday as a terrorist atrocity took the lives of Milan Public Prosecutor Giovanni Croce and his family, including young daughter Enrica...

Scenes of the elaborate state funeral held for the victims of the bombing. This scene features in the original _Gunslinger Girl_ manga and to provide a sense of continuity across the transition of reading to viewing, it can be used for reference here. There are ten coffins – CARLA, GIOVANNI, ENRICA and SOFIA were all killed in the attack, along with six bodyguards in the car behind them. At least one shot should include JEAN and JOSE in mourning dress – both are quiet, but with different emphases; JOSE is drawn and strained, JEAN is cold and stony.

**REPORTER (O.S.)**

A crowd of thousands assembled today to mourn the passing of one of the most respected figures in Italian public life, and those others taken away in a callous act of calculated brutality...

A vox-pop amidst a crowd of onlookers. A mike is being held underneath SPECTATOR A, a young woman with stinging red eyes who blinks back tears and is nearly overcome with emotion.

**SPECTATOR A**

(snivelling)

Prosecutor Croce was an inspiration... there are so many politicians, but he was above all of that... intelligent... incorruptible... someone who cared passionately for truth and justice...

**SPECTATOR B (O.S.)**

Bullcrap!

The camera pans round to SPECTATOR B, an angry young man, who has pushed forward from between other people and gestures with stabbing points of his finger.

**SPECTATOR B**

Croce was a stooge whose _business_ was silencing those inconvenient to the government. He was no better than a mafia enforcer and the scumbag's reaped what he sowed!

**SPECTATOR A**

(indignant, interjecting)

Bastard!

A scuffle breaks out.

JEAN and JOSE, dressed in military dress uniforms, emerge from a public building at night. They are mobbed by a dense crowd of journalists on the way to their vehicle, and the hand-held camera trembles and jerks about as it jostles its way through the crowd, pursuing JOSE all the way and trying to press up against the glass when he shuts the car door.

**PAPARAZZI**

Lieutenant Jose Croce! Jealous rage over being recalled from Serbia due to your father's politics led to you murdering your own family! What do you have to say?

A noisy anti-government march. Initially a dense crowd of people cross the width of an entire main street, forming a line behind a wide banner advocating federalism. However, the march stumbles as a weapon report is head (there is no apparent source and no-one appears injured), and then the crowd breaks apart as teargas canisters arc into their midst and they are charged by riot police. Several shots of protestors tripping over dropped placards or being run down and beaten savagely by police batons follow.

**REPORTER (O.S.)**

Over a hundred arrests were made today in Turin as an anti-government rally turned violent – police claim that a dozen officers were injured in an unwarranted act of aggression by an extremist fringe...

An analysis segment on a news channel. A bookish academic leans forward in his chair and gestures animatedly as he speaks.

**ACADEMIC**

What we must understand is that from the fall of Rome to Garibaldi's _Risorgimento_, Italy was a threadbare patchwork of states and dominions – really, this modern _unitary _republic is an aberration...

A news report is being delivered outside the main courthouse in Trieste. The reporter has positioned himself across the road and he is speaking about an innocuous and entirely unrelated case, and then he ducks in alarm as a bomb rips through the upper floors of the building, flinging masonry into the street, while the camera tips over from the blast. The screen hurriedly cuts to a standby screen.

**REPORTER**

In summation, Judge Monteverdi stated that Mrs. Lambuccio had no right to—_JESUS CHRIST!_

A grainy amateur video of several Padanian militants delivering a statement. They wear blue berets and their faces are masked underneath white cloths with small eyelets (see videos released by the Basque terrorist group ETA for reference) and they sit at a table underneath a large Padanian flag.

**TERRORIST**

The Italian government is an imperialist oppressor and we require the withdrawal of all occupational forces from the free state of Lombardy or they will drain out through bloodshed...

Outside a government office. A suited official is delivering a speech on the steps leading down to the street, surrounded by a press of impatient journalists who shove microphones and Dictaphones under his nose. The official looks visibly uncomfortable, squirming under the attention as he struggles to stick to his script. The caption bar reads: "IOC: TURIN OLYMPICS TO GO AHEAD – Sponsors drop out"

**OFFICIAL**

(carefully)

These continued questions about 'the security situation' are unhelpful. Rumour-mongering does ten times as much damage as bombs and I would encourage you instead to focus on us pulling together to show Italy at its best. To insinuate that we're putting citizens at risk over a matter of face is a base slander...

A graphic. A bar chart showing murder rates increasing sharply in the last couple of years. In a boxout to the side of the screen is a haggard-looking government minister.

**MINISTER**

Well, that's an imaginative interpretation of the statistics, Claudio. The actual level of _political _violence remains low...

A left-wing public rally, with red flags and hammer-and-sickle symbols in evidence, but despite the change in politics it doesn't look all that different from the earlier Padanian video, seeing as there are masked goons flanking the indignant young speaker at the lectern.

**SPEAKER**

(outraged)

I do not seek to make common cause with the northern Fascists – we will eliminate them in time. But they flourished in the foetid sump of capitalism built up under this decadent government, and the red fire and blood of Revolution must annihilate both, branch – and root!

Panning across a blackened burnt-out mangled wreck of a Chinook helicopter in a mountain setting. Military rescuers carefully pick their way around it. The caption bar reads: "36 ALPINI DEAD IN CHOPPER CRASH".

**REPORTER (O.S.)**

...An Army spokesman insisted that this was an accident due to mechanical failure...

A talk show. The INTERVIEWEE is a stylish woman who leans back in her chair, waves her hand and laughs extravagantly (exaggeratedly?) in dismissal of the question she's been asked.

**INTERVIEWEE**

(laughingly)

...Oh, _please_, darling! "Civil War"? The very idea...! That's for tinpot African despots, not a modern progressive European democracy...

A news crew is picking over the aftermath of an open street murder. After panning over a still shot of an African woman in a headscarf lying in the middle of the road, cut to a civilian being interviewed on the same street, while police forensics work in the background. The caption bar reads: "RACIST VIOLENCE INCREASES"

**PASSERBY**

(bewildered)

She was killed for crossing the street here instead of a hundred yards down. It's... it's obscene.

Looking across another street to the aftermath of a different murder. The body is largely concealed by street furniture, but the blood splatter on the wall behind it and the crude Padanian symbol spraypainted beside are obvious enough.

**REPORTER (O.S.)**

...regional chairman of the Unity Committee...

Tarpaulins draped over the remains of a car bomb.

**REPORTER (O.S.)**

...off-duty municipal policeman...

Another car has veered off-road and crashed against a lamp-post after being plastered with bullets. The windscreen is starred, cracked and opaque.

**REPORTER (O.S.)**

...deputy of the metropolitan chamber of commerce...

A funeral. A mother in mourning is weeping over a coffin, but she begins rounding on and spitting at everyone around her.

**MOTHER**

(tearful rage)

Enzo! My son! You have murdered my son! I hate you! I hate all of you! I'll never forgive you! Never!...

CUT to the TITLE CARD against a black background.

**MOTHER (CONT'D, O.S.)**

_...NEVER!_

FADE OUT

END MONTAGE

END OPENING TITLES

FADE IN – NAPLES CITY – DAY – ESTABLISHING.

A panoramic view of the Naples, looking down from the mountains to take in the city in its full languid redolent spread and the iridescent curve of the bay.

SUPERIMPOSE: Five years later.

MONTAGE

A complete contrast to the opening titles, this is relaxed and exploratory, not a damage report but a tour. A sequence of panning shots across Naples landmarks, taking in the bustle of a thriving and vivacious city – but for all the speed of the lives beneath, the city's history looms above them in imperturbable, and lasting, hard stone. We move from wide vistas such as the sea expanding around the Castell dell'Ovo and grand structures such as the San Francesco di Paola, gradually reducing in scope to smaller statuary like the Statue of the Nile. Nothing at all seems threatening. Eventually focus on an apparently innocuous street.

END MONTAGE

ANGLE ON – APARTMENT BUILDING.

One window is open as a focus of attention.

INT. ANTONIO's APARTMENT – DAY.

Inside the room with the open window is a university student bedsit – although the room is larger than most student accommodation, it still has all the paraphernalia from posters of retro-kitsch music acts on the walls to a desk laden with textbooks and a laptop. The general atmosphere of scruffiness is emphasised by the rumpled, unmade bed – under the shapeless, creased and crumpled duvet are ANTONIO and his GIRLFRIEND, dozing into the lengthening morning and only visible as hair and maybe a stray foot poking out from under the covers.

A mobile phone on the side-table begins to buzz and vibrate with an incoming text message.

**ANTONIO**

(groggily)

Mwwwnnnnneh? Ngehhh... Fugg...

ANTONIO's arm emerges out from under the duvet and flails blindly around for a few seconds before eventually landing on the mobile phone.

ANGLE ON – ANTONIO

His face emerges as he stares bleary-eyed at the mobile's screen.

ANTONIO'S POV

The mobile has received a text message. It reads, cryptically, "IT WILL HAPPEN AGAIN SOMEDAY".

REVERSE ANGLE

**ANTONIO**

(irritated)

Damn it, of all the days...!

ANTONIO rolls over in bed and nudges his girlfriend, who also seems a bit groggy with stray hairs as she's roused reluctantly, mumbling into the pillow.

**ANTONIO**

(apologetic)

Sorry, love, I've got class today.

**GIRLFRIEND**

Bwuh-nuh-guh...?

SERIES OF SHOTS

A sequence showing ANTONIO getting ready for a day's hill-walking. ZOOM IN on particular details, such as him packing a light rucksack, tying shoelaces on walking boots, wrapping sandwiches in cling-film, filling water bottles, folding a map, and so on.

END SERIES.

EXT. APARTMENT STREET – DAY.

Changed into walking gear and carrying a rucksack, ANTONIO walks from the entrance to his apartment block and enters an inexpensive but decent car. The GIRLFRIEND, dressed in ordinary casual clothes, follows him out.

B.G. – HENRIETTA and JOSE, examining the sculpted cornices of a neighbouring building.

**GIRLFRIEND**

(gently laughing)

So, Antonio, when were _you _such...

ANGLE ON – HENRIETTA AND JOSE. M.O.S.

The fratello are apparently innocuous sightseers. JOSE points out interesting architectural details with apparent enthusiasm and HENRIETTA is snapping them eagerly with her camera.

**GIRLFRIEND (O.S. CONT'D)**

...a diligent soul? The Latin paper's not due until next week.

GIRLFRIEND'S P.O.V.

ANTONIO leans his head out of the car window and flashes a toothy grin.

**ANTONIO**

Hey, gotta show the tutor that you're keen, you might squeeze extra marks out of it.

ANTONIO drives off, past JOSE and HENRIETTA who both have their backs to the road.

CUT TO EXT. MOUNT VESUVIUS – DAY – ESTABLISHING.

Mount Vesuvius overlooks the city of Naples and the wide sweep on the bay. In the fine weather well-worn tracks snaking up the mountain are quite busy with recreational walkers and hikers. With the brisk movement of a fit and able body, ANTONIO makes his way up to a viewing point near the top, where PROFESSOR is sitting on a rock, sipping a hot drink from a small Thermos and looking thoughtful. Erratic stones and outcrops expand behind him in a theatrical circle. ANTONIO pulls out a water bottle from his pack as he walks and sits down beside PROFESSOR. They consider the panorama in quiet contemplation for a moment, not acknowledging or looking at each other. Then PROFESSOR speaks aloud.

**PROFESSOR**

Breathtaking, isn't it?

**ANTONIO**

(shrugging)

It's a view. There's quite a few.

**PROFESSOR**

(expression hardening)

I mean how it makes you hold your nose. How this place is utterly _squalid_.

PROFESSOR waves his arm in a demonstrative gesture, as if he could sweep away the grey expanse of the city in the bay like dust settled on a table.

**PROFESSOR** **(CONT'D)**

How everything is smothered and choked in heat and smog.

**ANTONIO**

(laughing gently)

I'm not sure it would have exactly been sweetly perfumed in the past, sir. Naples didn't even have sewers until the Bourbons commissioned them.

**PROFESSOR**

It's different in one respect, though.

As PROFESSOR and ANTONIO converse, JEAN and RICO come into view, walking up the footpath that passes behind the rock on which the two Padanians are sitting. JEAN continues along the path steadily and unerringly, but a bubbly, energetic and enthusiastic RICO is much more active, dashing about to see the view from multiple angles and eagerly and laughingly scrambling over the environment with boyish gusto, revelling in movement and exercise. Neither PROFESSOR nor ANTONIO pay this any mind – the younger man watches his mentor point to a cluster of tall new construction whose scaffolds and crane are in view.

**PROFESSOR (CONT'D)**

Steel and glass and concrete. It's a fungus digging into and leaching the life out of the city. We live and work, spend all our days of all our lives in buildings. Architecture is society's soul, the expression of our subconsciousness, the milieu around which our perspective is oriented – so do these stubby towers, that'll crumble away in a few decades like a rotten tooth, say about us?

**ANTONIO**

All buildings collapse, Professor – we're archaeologists, there wouldn't be much for us to do if they didn't.

**PROFESSOR**

True, child – but what will our descendants think when they see that our ruins collapsed in on _themselves_? That they were designed to fail? Concrete rots, steel rusts, glass breaks but stone...

PROFESSOR pats the rock on which he's sitting reverently.

**PROFESSOR (CONT'D)**

...stone lasts as long as the mountains.

EXT. NAPLES UNIVERSITY FEDERICO II – DAY – ESTABLISHING.

CUT TO INT. NAPLES UNIVERSITY FEDERICO II – DAY.

TRACK PROFESSOR as he makes his way through lobbies and hallways bustling with students, a cracked leather satchel of papers under one arm, struggling not to be bewildered and overcome and caught in the inter-class surging riptides of youth moving around him. He eventually makes his way to a quieter hallway towards his office, where he passes HILSHIRE and TRIELA inspecting a wall chart on the 5th-6th century Ostrogothic Kingdom of Italy. Their foreign language catches PROFESSOR's ear, and he stops in curiosity he passes them.

**TRIELA (IN GERMAN)**

It seems very large for a barbarian tribe, wouldn't they have brought anarchy?

**HILSHIRE (IN GERMAN)**

That's just the thing, Triela, Gibbon and the 'fall of Rome' too facile; it served his own Whiggish preconceptions. The Ostrogoths preserved many of Rome's civic institutions—

**PROFESSOR (IN GERMAN)**

(interjecting)

That may be true, sir, but with their defeat in the Gothic War the barbarians illustrated that they lacked the discipline to suitably dignify those august – they were wearing clothes that did not fit them.

**TRIELA**

(smiling)

Well, sir, as Ovid says, Fortune is a fickle mistress.

**PROFESSOR**

(surprised)

Oh! You speak Italian?

**TRIELA **

(proudly)

I'm fluent!

**HILSHIRE**

(hocking a thumb towards TRIELA)

Little Hypatia here has got her whole life sorted out; she's considering places to study.

**TRIELA**

(knowledgeable)

Ability and education are needed for glory and virtue.

**PROFESSOR**

(delighted)

Cicero! Splendid! It's wonderful that a half-caste is open to such vigorous learning.

**HILSHIRE**

(astonished, not believing what he's just heard)

_Excuse_ me?

**PROFESSOR**

(conversational, unaware of giving offence)

I just think it's heartening, that culture can override colour.

**HILSHIRE**

Uh... right.

**PROFESSOR**

Anyway, I must be off, but may Fortune see you through, young lady.

With an approving nod PROFESSOR disappears down the corridor, but the camera lingers on the fratello. TRIELA shakes her head in sad summation.

**TRIELA**

(shrugging in dismissal)

"_There is nothing so absurd but some philosopher has said it"_

**HILSHIRE**

(admonishing)

Now you're just showing off! "As Ovid says", pfft!

DISSOLVE TO the door leading into PROFESSOR's office. A notice pinned up by the door reads "Etruscan Tutorial Group: 1060 – Reintegrating Private Collections, a Curatorial Study. 1400-1600hrs. Registered students only."

INT. PROFESSOR'S OFFICE – DAY.

The office is large, as much a tutorial room as it is a personal workspace. It is a well-appointed chamber for a professor of some seniority – not at all a boxy cubicle, rather a full study that he has been able to occupy and adapt for his own purpose in his own time. The two side walls are lined with bookcases and a generously large solid wooden desk – the Federico II is a venerable university and its fittings are suitably mature – it disdains plastic chairs and flat-pack IKEA furniture, to say the least. To reinforce this, there are no ceiling tiles but a solid one with a plaster frieze around the light fittings (also redolent of a building that has been adapted to multiple uses over its long life. The desk sits under three tall rectangular windows that occupy the far wall opposite the door (this is an important feature that will be relevant later in the episode). The blinds are currently lowered to darken the room for a slide presentation, projected onto a screen set up in front of the desk. And arranged in a semi-circle around it are several of PROFESSOR's students – and fighters. There are thirteen Padanians in total in PROFESSOR's cell but it is not necessary to depict all of them at once, not to mention that it would make the room seem crowded – a selection of six, including ANTONIO to maintain continuity with earlier scenes, should be more than sufficient.

With everything cast into a forbidding two-tone half-light by the projector, PROFESSOR leads his students through slides of Etruscan artefacts, his speech recounting the indignity heaped on a northern state by foreign interest and southern possessiveness, so serving indoctrination masked as education. The slides should be a frequently-changing and diverse mix of art, artefacts and maps so as to suitably illustrate the words he speaks and to maintain the interest of the viewer during a long monologue. PROFESSOR is probably eliding and parlaying a lot of the history, but he's a doctored academic so he must be right, right? By this focus on ancient history, we also appreciate the impossible, scarring depth of the grudges nursed throughout the internecine conflict currently gripping Italy.

**PROFESSOR**

(authoritative)

The great encompassing assemblage of Etruscan art was plundered and vandalised by dilettante antiquarians, but in its own way the avaricious greed of foreigners demonstrates Etruria's unique qualities and superiorities – the collections amassed by figures like Durand, Castellani and Campana show that the northern Etruscans had a commanding distinctiveness. Etruscan architecture evolved a unique style that owes no debt to the Greeks, and Rome was a subordinate, juvenile latecomer clumsily aping the expression of its mature and established neighbour, who indulgently and paternally sustained the whelp – only to be met by adolescent rage and ingratitude that led to invasion, conquest and subjugation. Making common cause with the barbarians of Gaul who overran the sustaining Po Valley of Padanian Etruria, it illustrates that where people cannot make – they will _take_.

PROFESSOR reaches out his arms to his students. They all consider his words – some eyes shining with inspiration, other brows furrowed and stern with concentration, but all absorbed and focused exclusively on the PROFESSOR, so that he has full command of them.

**PROFESSOR (CONT'D)**

In my career, I have witnessed that system repeat time and again from the times of Hiero Syracuse to Harold Alexander... but _you_... you are young, fresh, and those who can break the wheel.

DISSOLVE TO – EXT. NAPLES STREETS – NIGHT.

The light of the projector becomes the moon over the yellow sea of Naples at night, although it is less a glistering, undulating roll of cloth-of-gold as it is a mound of trampled, pale straw – or, even more uncharitably, a puddle of urine. Red flecks gradually expand into running veins, and then divide again into the rear lights of automobiles. TRACK a small, plain lorry – the Padanians' vehicle – as it rumbles down a street in a downheel quarter of Naples. MARCO and ANGELICA walking side by side (but not holding hands) pass it on the sidewalk, walking in the opposite direction.

The lorry putters to a stop near a nondescript, shadowy alleyway. CHIARA, SYLVIA, and BEATRICE – all dressed in cheap, scruffy clothes – are loitering with a suitable air of juvenile delinquency on a doorstep beside the entrance to the alley. NEMIA shoos them away from the driver's cab of the lorry.

**NEMIA**

Hey! _Scram!_

The three cyborgs scamper away out of frame, and the lorry turns down the alleyway before coughing to a stop outside a doorway leading down to a cellar. The rear door of the lorry rolls up, and multiple Padanians dismount.

INT. STORE CELLAR – NIGHT.

PROFESSOR leads his charges down a narrow staircase, their footfalls sounding noisily. They reach a long, low, rectangular room, but the light from the stairway only creates a narrow porch of light which the bodies of the Padanians themselves almost completely obscure. PROFESSOR reaches out to one side and activates a light switch, and with a harsh buzzing flicker he illuminates the chamber. The walls are coarse, whitewashed brick and the floor is hard concrete, lit harshly under un-shaded lights. The far wall of the room has some ragged political posters pasted up – nothing explicitly Padanian, but at least one image of the Prime Minister is visible – while the walls are lined with wooden crates with straw padding for their contents. The Padanians start to fill out the room as PROFESSOR waves them in. BENITO curiously takes a cloth-covered package from one of the crates, tsks in distaste when he notices that it's an oilcloth, and wipes his dirtied fingers on his jeans. He unwraps the package, and starts back in shock when he sees that it's a Luger pistol! Everyone else's eyes turn to BENITO as he himself looks around in bewilderment.

**BENITO**

What is all this stuff?

**PROFESSOR**

(proudly proprietorial)

_This_, my boy, is a collection of deactivated firearms maintained by the university Historical Society as props and demonstration pieces at public exhibitions – or so the police believe.

Interest starts to grab the younger Padanians, and they begin inspecting the the crates like eager shoppers with the affected expertise that only amateurs can conjure. As they poke and prod, PROFESSOR smiles, knowing that he's hooked them.

**PROFESSOR**

Welcome to our arsenal.

**ANTONIO**

(incredulous)

Are you _serious?_

ANTONIO remains unconvinced. He stalks furiously down the length of the room, gesturing to each weapon as he identifies them in the following lines. His movements are almost sword-slashes, such is the stabbing frustration behind them.

**ANTONIO**

(angrily)

"Arsenal"? This is a scrapheap! Piats? Thompsons? A – Jesus! – a _Mannlicher-Carcano_?

ANTONIO roughly grabs a Sten gun and holds it up, gesturing at it with his other hand with a bewildered expression.

**ANTONIO (CONT'D)**

Some _Limey_ probably dropped this _drainpipe_ in a _ditch_ at _Monte Cassino_!

ANTONIO drops the Sten gun carelessly back into its box with a noisy clatter. He turns to the others and throws his hands out wide – beholding it all, and unimpressed.

**ANTONIO (CONT'D)**

These things are relics!

The other students start looking doubtful and uncertain, exchanging askance glances with each other. PROFESSOR, however, steps out from between them towards the centre of the room, appearing stern and disapproving. The pupil should heed the teacher!

**PROFESSOR**

They also _work_.

ANTONIO puts his hands on his hips and looks about him, unimpressed, grimacing and puffing out a sharp breath of disbelief. PROFESSOR observes this.

**PROFESSOR (CONT'D)**

What would you prefer, Mister Antonio Maccio? Laser blasters? Force-field belts? Maybe these weapons are not finished in nice smooth moulded plastic for your soft, sensitive schoolboy fingers, but look at the Yankees getting blown up in Afghanistan; how much is advanced technology doing for them?

PROFESSOR reaches into a crate and pulls out a Welrod Mk. 1 pistol (its integrated suppressor allows for a silent shot in this scene). As he speaks he makes it ready with familiar, practised movements, and levels it to fire at the wall.

**PROFESSOR (CONT'D)**

Whether it's a modern FN P90 submachine gun or a Napoleonic musket, one thing remains – you're lying there with a _bullet_ in you.

PROFESSOR enunciates his point by firing. Everyone jumps as the shot rips through the poster of the Prime Minister and blasts a chunk out of the wall. Plaster and stone crumble down in a dusty stream to spread across the cellar floor.

DISSOLVE TO – UNIVERSITY BUILDING – NIGHT – EXTREME CLOSE UP ON CCTV CAMERA LENS.

QUICK CUT – ANGLE UP – ANTONIO.

ANTONIO is walking underneath the camera. His face stops in the f.g., while the camera whirrs in the b.g. Given the scalating situation, he is abruptly conscious of surveillance. With a sigh, he tries to brazen it out as he walks past the building porter's desk.

**PORTER**

Evenin' Antonio. Burning the midnight oil again?

**ANTONIO**

(cheerfully as he walks past)

No rest for the wicked!

(to himself)

And I'm as bad as they come.

INT. PROFESSOR'S OFFICE – NIGHT.

ANTONIO returns to the office, which is now dense with papers and maps as the "Etruscan Tutorial Group" are arranged around a folding table that has been wheeled into the room. At a casual glance, they are merely diligently immersed in coursework – an encouraging and heartening observation given this generation of feckless and indolent youth – but in actuality they are planning their operation. PROFESSOR walks around the table, presiding over proceedings. For added dynamism, instead of delivering straightforward this dialogue this scene can be INTERCUT with the below MONTAGE of the Padanians travelling to and setting up in Pompeii, and show the camera TACKING IN EXTREME CLOSE-UP over the maps and diagrams as they FADE TO streets and buildings in real life.

**BENITO**

(laughing)

Heh, this is great – if anyone walks in on us it'll just look like we're discussing fieldwork.

**ANTONIO**

(taking seat)

Well, if anyone _does _walk in on us, at least we're archaeologists – we're good at digging holes to put them in.

**PROFESSOR**

Glad to see you joining us, Mister Maccio. I would like to introduce you to Pompeii, the city of ghosts. A scar on the face of Vesuvius, a place that died in anguish and calamity – and whose corpse is picked over by millions of slack-jawed gawpers each and every year.

**ANTONIO**

What does that make us?

**NEMIA**

The difference between scoring a goal and just belting the woodwork, Antonio.

**PROFESSOR**

(holding up a paper)

_And_ those who have access to the superintendent's itinerary instead of just the tourist's timetable of plastic gladiator re-enactments. Normally only a small quarter of the city is open to the public, but the heritage committee has been seeing a funding shortfall this year and so has granted special dispensation to take VIP groups deeper into the closed part of the city – that will be our opportunity. During a weekend session, when the excavators are off work and there are no have-a-go heroes underfoot will seize one of these groups.

**MASSINO**

(joshing)

The weekend? Good, that gives me time to finish my paper on Hannibal.

**NEMIA**

(sharply critical)

Be serious! We need to work out who we're hitting – we don't need soldiers on the cultural component for their annual bounty.

**MARIA**

What about this one, the... 'Social Welfare Agency'? That sounds like a government vanity project, spoiling it will be sure to embarrass them even more.

**ANTONIO**

(scornful)

Jeez, Maria, have you never heard of the Social Welfare Agency? That's the medical quango that provides hospice and palliative care for terminally-ill children. We _really _wouldn't earn much kudos for tormenting kids with cancer!

ANTONIO picks up and slaps another paper with the back of his hand.

**ANTONIO (CONT'D)**

Look, this one's much better. The "Cicerone Circle" – exclusive high-class cultural _antiquarianism_ for the well-heeled seeking a shade of Grand Tour nostalgia. Businessmen, aristocrats, foreigners, all rich and well-connected, with plenty of strings to pull.

**BENITO**

We could squeeze them for bigger ransoms than dumb Mickey-eared Yankee tourists, anyway!

**NEMIA**

Makes sense – the government doesn't care about ordinary citizens, but here we can hit the elites, and lose them some friends.

**PROFESSOR**

(shrugs)

Let's do it!

BEGIN MONTAGE

Weapons are zipped into nondescript and ordinary civilian duffel bags and sports holdalls, with some foam padding stuffed in to stop them clattering!

NERO and CARLITO laugh noisily together in a bar, enjoying a matey, blokeish joke as they watch the girls go by.

A sketch of movements for the hostage-taking, looking for all the world like a football play, is drawn onto a street map of Pompeii

MARIA sits quietly and contemplatively in a church. A church cleaner is busy with the vacuum off to one side.

Slowly ZOOM on GREGORIO as he sits in the cellar storeroom and repeatedly tests his weapon, loading, dry-firing the action, unloading, and loading again.

MARIA and GLORIA shout loudly and vituperatively, charged with righteous indignation, as they walk at the front of a pro-Padanian protest march.

ANTONIO dances with his GIRLFRIEND at an upmarket restaurant.

PROFEESOR, quite serenely, contentedly, and entirely normally, scribbles at paperwork in his office.

The bags from shot (1) are lifted into the back of the lorry, and its rear door clicks down with a rocking slam of finality.

CUT TO – VESUVIUS COUNTRYSIDE – DAY – ESTABLISHING.

An AERIAL SHOT TRACKING the lorry as it makes its way across from Naples to Pompeii, sweeping over and taking in the breadth of the surrounding landscape, and the broken mountain that towers above them. Suddenly the Padanians seem like an awfully small molecule in a much vaster organism, and it punctures the gathering sense of importance from the previous montage.

CUT TO – POMPEII RUINS – DAY – ESTABLISHING.

Pan across several scenes of Pompeii being worked hard, busy and lively with tourists being conveyor-belted around all of the picturesque spots. The Padanians' lorry drives past a car park, and in the b.g. we can see multiple Agency cyborgs and handlers dismounting from a coach, and pulling much more solid-looking equipment trunks from the cargo hold. There is a brief indication of the cyborgs' abilities when they handle cases almost as big as themselves with ease.

The lorry continues on and drives to a quieter service car park, surfaced with dry dirt instead of tarmac. The Padanians dismount, heft their bags onto their shoulders, and with singular, solemn purpose – not quite _The Right Stuff_, although you might see shades of it – walk under an archway into the city. From an AERIAL SHOT looking down a street at an oblique angle, PAN down to follow the dwindling group as members peel off to establish their own positions. The morning sun behind them casts long shadows down the street from the charcoal stubs of their bodies. Eventually only MARIA is left, and tight-jawed but controlled she makes her way into a covered building whose upper floor is intact, where she puts down her case and extracts a PIAT anti-tank launcher.

* * *

><p>(Continued)<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

_NB: The following battle scenes involve a substantial amount of specific direction. This is an unpopular practise for scriptwriting, as it intrudes upon the director's craft and it presumes too much on the quality of the budget, location, cast and crew, further factors which also determine what actions and effects are practical. In this instance, however, it is important to prescribe the action because as an opening episode this script also serves to establish and demonstrate the key capabilities of the cyborgs, those that are central to their concept and character. Here we will observe their ability to use their childlike bodies to hide in plain sight; their unnatural strength, toughness, and resistance to pain; their prodigal weapons proficiency and enhanced senses; and their protective relationship with their commanding handlers._

* * *

><p>As the targets of the Padanians hove into view, being led around by an effusive tour guide, INTERCUT their approach with pictures of MARIA. She kneels on the ground and loads the PIAT with a smoke bomb; the faithful replication of the weapon's complicated and unusual spigot-mortar loading mechanism constitutes a piece of fanservice for the firearms enthusiasts in the viewership. MARIA's position obscures the doorway behind her. As she is about to raise the PIAT to her shoulder to fire, HENRIETTA interjects<p>

**HENRIETTA (O.S.)**

(timid)

Um... er... excuse me?

MARIA hisses in alarm and hastily shoves the PIAT back into its box. She whirls around to find the source of the intrusion, shifting her position so as to expose the doorway and reveal a sheepish HENRIETTA shifting her feet nervously.

**HENRIETTA (CONT'D)**

Erm... I'm really sorry... but I got sort of lost and I'm trying to find my dad...

MARIA isn't sure whether she's about to laugh with relief or scream with fury – either way, she looks set to have a coronary.

**MARIA**

(strangled)

Oh! Don't worry, dear, if you just turn around and walk straight you'll reach the end of town, follow the perimeter and you'll get to the car park. There's adults all around.

**HENRIETTA**

(hesitant, anxious)

But... but... that's such a long way and what if I meet a stranger or turn the wrong way or trip and hurt myself when there's no-one around... can you take me?

**MARIA**

(recovering; losing patience; shifts position of the handgun slipped into her belt)

I'm sorry, but I'm _very_ busy with important grown-up _work _right now, but it's easy and you dad'll be so proud that you handled yourself.

**HENRIETTA**

(tearful)

But... but... I'll... I'll get lost if I'm on my own...!

**MARIA**

(whispering harshly)

Then _get_ lost! Can't you take a hint? Go on some youthful exploring adventure you stupid little girl—

As MARIA comes over to roughly shoo and shove HENRIETTA back out of the door, HENRIETTA responds. With a whirl of inhuman speed she snaps her hands around MARIA's arm and breaks it with a single savage wrench. As she does so, she yanks MARIA down and drives a fist into her throat, choking off the Padanian's scream. As MARIA collapses to her knees and gags, incapacitated by the fierce blow, HENRIETTA grabs her head and pulps it against a wall.

QUICK CUT to GREGORIO and MARTEN inside another enclosed building. Forming a transitional bridge with the manner of MARIA's death, show an EXTREME CLOSE UP of GREGORIO pulling on a gas mask over his face. GREGORIO moves over towards a wall, flinching towards a window looking out onto the street and only restraining himself from looking out with a considerable exertion of will.

**GREGORIO**

God damn it, what's taking her so long? The slobs should be coughing and puking by now...

MARTEN only answers him with a gurgle.

**GREGORIO**

What did you say? These stupid masks—

GREGORIO turns around. CUT TO MARTEN's feet. PAN UP the length of his twitching body, to show TRIELA gripping MARTEN from behind and sawing through his neck with her bayonet. TRIELA lets MARTEN go, and as he slithers down with the rest of the fluids leaking out of him, she bursts past him and charges GREGORIO, filling the camera.

**GREGORIO**

_SHIT!_

GREGORIO falls back before TRIELA's onslaught, clumsily blocking two swipes of her bayonet with the body of his submachine gun. Gaining a couple of feet of distance, he tries to level his weapon and shoot TRIELA – with a hiss of alarm, TRIELA lunges forward and slams a hand over the muzzle – GREGORIO fires a burst of shots, but TRIELA effectively muffles the weapon, although the shots also visibly damage her hand, spitting splurts of gore from the back. TRIELA drops her bayonet and rams the thumb of her other hand into the gun's ejector port to stop it firing, literally blocking it up - she shows no reaction to mangling an appendage in the firing mechanism. She wrests the gun from GREGORIO and follows up by swinging a pelvis-cracking kick into GREGORIO's side – as GREGORIO convulses, TRIELA draws back and then whips up a neck-snapping scissor-kick that catches GREGORIO under the chin and finally fells him. TRIELA pauses to consider the scene for a moment, and then distastefully picks a mangled finger from her ruined hand.

**TRIELA**

(irritated)

Darn it, I only had this hand installed last week!

CUT TO the upper floor of another building, with an intact floor and gaps in the wall overlooking the tour group. GREGIO and MASSINO are sitting beside each other, backs against the wall and leaning their weapons against themselves. They toss their heads about like stamping horses, becoming increasingly impatient. GREGIO makes to get up.

**GREGIO**

(Frustrated)

Jesus Christ, are we going yet?

**MASSINO**

(fretful; grabbing at GREGIO's sleeve)

Wait, Gregio! You'll spoil—

**GREGIO**

(irritable, shaking MASSINO off)

Give it a rest, will you, I need to check!

GREGIO leans around to look down onto the street. As he does so, CRASH ZOOM past his shoulder, rapidly flicking past through gaps in Pompeii walls and rooftops until it quickly brakes when confronted by an EXTREME CLOSE UP of RICO looking down the sight of her Dragunov.

QUICK CUT – ANGLE UP – CIVILIAN IN STREET.

SFX: BULLET STING.

The bullet flies overhead, the only indication of its passing being a slight shudder of dust on one of the walls. The civilian is disturbed by the sound and pokes his head up, looking about him in perplexity but seeing nothing.

CUT TO: TOP-DOWN VIEW OF STREET.

In the top-left of the screen, the civilian down on the street shrugs and walks on. In the bottom-right, GREGIO lies slumped on the floor, his head burst while his face lies slack on a mound of mulch and gore like a rubber mask. CUT TO RICO slowly exhaling and drawing back from her Dragunov. After a reflective, still moment, she abruptly switches from combat- to girl-mode and turns to jabber at JEAN beside her.

**RICO**

(excitedly)

Jean, Jean, look, Jean! A headshot, threaded through all that!

Jean glances aside from his binoculars with a disapproving expression.

**JEAN**

(stern)

Do you want praise, Rico? That is no more than what's expected.

CUT TO the rooftop that RICO was just firing at. MASSINO, lying low, stares in horror at the body of GREGIO lying sprawled on the floor. Keeping low to the floor (but clumsily sticking his backside up into the air at several points) he crawls round to the back of the building and as soon as he is protected by the rear wall splays out into an ungainly, panicked run to the rest of the Padanians, who are squatting impatiently, waiting for the tardy go-signal.

**ANTONIO**

(harsh whisper)

Massino, what the _Hell _are you _doing_?

**MASSINO**

(breathless and panicky)

S... se... setup! It's a _setup! _A shooter's just taken out Gregio!

**BENITO**

(incredulous)

What?

**ANTONIO**

(watching the surroundings)

If that's true, we've got no choice but to grab the hostages now! They'll be our shield when the government tries to make a move on us.

**CARLITO**

(dismayed; grabbing at ANTONIO)

Stop, Antonio! You'll get us all killed!

**ANTONIO**

(punching CARLITO away)

Get the Hell off me! If we dither, we die!

**CARLITO**

They'll have everything bracketed already! If we step out onto that street we'll get ripped to pieces!

ANTONIO grits his teeth and glances at the other Padanians, and their alarmed, unsure expressions, their morale swiftly punctured by MASSINO's panic and CARLIOTO's dismay.

**ANTONIO**

(wrenching around in frustration)

_God... DAMNIT! _Back to the truck!

CUT TO RICO and JEAN's firing position. JEAN tracks his binoculars across the rooftops.

**JEAN**

(clipped, clinical)

The others have realised that something's wrong, they're bottling.

CUT TO two of the Agency fratelli – BERNADO and BEATRICE, and MARCO and ANGELICA, waiting inside a building that used to be a Roman eatery. MARCO and ANGELICA are poised at a guillotine's readiness, while BEATRICE stands with all of the expression of a mannequin and BERNADO, despite the situation, leans languidly against an old oven.

**JEAN (O.S. RADIO, CONT'D)**

Interdiction fratelli, ready! Bernado-Beatrice, Marco-Angelica, take them out!

**BERNARDO**

(confident)

Don't worry, boss, they won't see what's coming!

The two fratelli set off into the street. MARCO and ANGELICA peel off down a side-street, but the camera continues to TRACK BERNADO and BEATRICE. They come to a stop in an empty junction.

**BERNADO**

(exasperated)

Damn it! We must have missed them.

Beatrice squats down and begins tracing her fingertips over the cobblestones. PAN to follow her hand. BERNADO watches her silently and expectantly, aware that she's employing her talent of hypersensitive smell.

**BERNADO**

Well Beatrice, any joy?

**BEATRICE**

(level)

That way.

Not turning her head away from the ground, BEATRICE points across herself towards a wall. With a sudden movement she springs up to her feet and bounces up on to the top of the wall with a single jump, balancing herself on the top of the wall before sprinting along its length.

ANGLE ON – BERNADO

**BERNADO**

(wryly – yeah, I know, sorry!)

Heh. Don't tread on the culture, my l'il busy Bee.

BERNADO runs off after his ward.

TRACK BEATRICE as she nimbly crosses the walls, running along their tops and leaping precisely between them with inhuman dexterity and swiftness., taking a more direct route across a couple of blocks.

UP-ANGLE – NERO AND CARLITO

As the two Padanians run, BEATRICE leaps into view, hung poised above their heads, a vengeful dark shade cut out of the sun. She lobs into CARLITO and both go down into a tangled scramble of limbs. NERO continues running, leaving CARLITO behind as he flails his arms like futile lengths of numb rubber against the cyborg that is pinning him.

**CARLITO (O.S.)**

(frantic)

Nero, help! Get her off me! _Get her off me! GET HER OFF MEEEEEAAAAAAAARRRRGGGHHH-!_

A terrified NERO leaves the desperate screams of his friend behind as he continues to flee, skin sweat-slick, balance stumbling and unco-ordinated, and eyes unfocused in sheer blinding, insensible panic – NERO thus fails to react to BERNADO stepping out of an alleyway until he's already mashed his nose against the butt of HANDLER's pistol. NERO's head is knocked back with a whiplash-inducing impact, and he crashes to the ground and rolls around groggily, half-stunned as blood fountains from the scrunched-up paper ball of cartilage that his nose has been reduced to.

BERNADO guffaws at the sight and kneels down above NERO, rolling him onto his front without resistance and cuffing him behind his back, nattering away aimiably all the while.

**BERNADO**

Ooh, that is a nasty one, isn't it? I'm sorry about the nose, son, but look on the bright side- Italy has the finest state provision of healthcare in the world, you'll be sure to get it fixed up better than new in prison, you'll be the Adonis of Cell Block E for, oh, the next _thirty years_!

BERNADO looks up as BEATRICE approaches. Blood runs all the way down BEATRICE's front – recalling TRIELA in the first episode of _Gunslinger Girl: Il Teatrino _– and juxtaposed against the glozing, glistering and grisly gore that marinades her is her flat, lidded, almost bored expression.

**BEATRICE**

Target neutralised, sir.

CUT TO – WORKERS' CAR PARK.

The small truck that the Padanians used is sitting in the car park, with its engine idling. NEMIA and GLORIA are sitting in the driver's compartment, tense but not worried, expecting their comrades to shortly be arriving with a herd of prisoners.

CUT TO – DRIVER'S COMPARTMENT

**GLORIA**

D'y'think we should have split everyone up into smaller vehicles, scatter more?

**NEMIA**

Would've just made us easier to spot and track.

**GLORIA**

Or, or, or, or maybe barricade ourselves in a warehouse here – we wouldn't get ambushed on the way!

**NEMIA**

(patiently)

It's a kidnapping, Gloria, not some last stand—

(distracted)

Hmm?

A knocking bang on the hood (out of shot) distracts NEMIA. Both she and GLORIA turn their heads to look out of the windshield to see the source of the disturbance.

NEMIA's POV

CHIARA and SYLVIA are standing in front of the truck, with beaming, guileless smiles. SYLVIA waves.

**GLORIA**

Who-?

**NEMIA**

_NO-ONE GOOD!_

NEMIA slams down on the accelerator and the engine revs madly – but goes nowhere. CHIARA and SYLVIA have got their hands under the bumper and have used their cyborg strength to literally lift the front off the ground! The two Padanians stare incredulously for a moment, before their will peters away with the engine noise. CHIARA and SYLVIA lower the truck down gently, and then with a tap on the windows we see their handlers covering the PADANIANS from the side.

CUT TO – POMPEII STREETS – DAY.

TRACKING ALICIA AND BENITO – RUNNING

ALICIA does not have any lines in this scene to conserve money – instead of having to hire another actress for a minor role, her grunts, cries and other exclamations, which are suitably anonymous, can be done by another member of the case.

**BENITO**

(panting)

We'll make for the touristy bit! We can lose ourselves there – the government wouldn't risk a fight, that's why we're here in the first—

BENITO yelps and both Padanians hastily brake as a number of silenced shots hit the ground in front of them. ANGELICA moves out from cover around an alleyway, her expression level and her smoking submachine gun readied. MARCO emerges behind her with his sidearm covering the Padanians.

**MARCO**

(snappish barking)

Guns! On the ground! Hands behind heads! _NOW!_

The two Padanians glance uncertainly each other. Benito exhales, deflating.

**BENITO**

Well, 'twas fun.

BENITO and ALICIA comply with MARCO's instructions, dropping their weapons and going prone. MARCO and ANGELICA advance on them to complete the arrest – the handler towards ALICIA, the cyborg towards BENITO.

ANGLE ON – ALICIA'S FACE.

As MARCO closes, sudden determination hardens on ALICIA's features. Her eyes twitch, her jaw hardens, and with gymnastic skill suddenly snaps her legs around, catching MARCO surprise. The handler is tripped and lands heavily, winded. ALICIA immediately springs to her feet and rams a foot at MARCO's throat, trying to crush it. MARCO strains with his arms, unsuccessfully trying to push her off.

ANGELICA turns her head and breathes in sharply, distracted from her own mark by the attack on her handler. Seeing an opening for escape, BENITO, rolls aside and onto his feet, jinks down a side alley and disappears.

MARCO'S POV

ALICIA continues to press down on MARCO's throat – until ANGELICA leaps in from out-of-frame, driving an iron-ramrod kick into ALICIA's leg and blowing out her knee with a sickening crack of tearing ligaments and gristle. With a strangled scream of agony, ALICIA falls down to the side, her smashed leg collapsing beneath her. ANGELICA follows-through and falls down on top of her, wailing on her with a savage pummelling of fists. Arcs of blood whipping off of the cyborgs' knuckles indicate just what horrific damage these hardened bones are inflicting...

**ANGELICA**

(raging)

_Don't – you – dare – hurt – Marco!_

ANGELICA winds back to gather herself for a truly skull-pulping blow, but as she pulls her arm back MARCO clamps a hand around it and roughly yanks her backward from the defeated ALICIA, whose face is now a puffy, misshapen mess of bruising. MARCO is unimpressed by his cyborg's vigour.

**MARCO**

Damnit, Angelica, stop screwing around! Get after the other one!

ANGELICA's eyes are open in shock, her anger instantly wilting. Why is Marco shouting? Isn't she doing well?

**ANGELICA**

But, but Marco, she—

**MARCO**

_GO!_

ANGELICA doesn't so much run after BENITO as flee MARCO's displeasure.

CUT TO BENITO as he now sprints alone down an empty Pompeii street.

**BENITO**

Sorry Alicia, but I think that it's time for some independent study...

The camera follows him as he runs onto another street, takes a second to get his bearings – and turns around to see ANGELICA skidding out of another alleyway to confront him!

EXTREME CLOSE UP – SLOW MOTION – ANGELICA PUTTING SHOULDER DOWN TO CHARGE

EXTREME CLOSE UP – BENITO'S EYES

ANGELICA charges BENITO. The Padanian clumsily dodges the rush, stumbling backward and tripping over his own feet as he does so, crashing backwards through a tarpaulin set up between a gap in a wall and falling six feet down into an excavation trench behind it. As BENITO disentangles himself and sucks in breath from a hard, winding impact, ANGELICA jumps down after him, landing a lot more nimbly and athletically with flexed knees. Frantically scrambling back to his feet, BENITO seizes on the closest weapon to hand – a mattock laid against a wheelbarrow.

**BENITO**

Come on then, you preppy little snot-!

BENITO sweeps the mattock in wide, heavy, swooping arcs at ANGELICA. ANGELICA shuffles backwards, smartly leaning around and dodging the swipes as BENITO advances and attacks.

EXTREME CLOSE UP – BENITO'S FACE

BENITO is clenched with fury and concentration, and is perspiring visibly. His eyes blaze in anger.

**BENITO**

_Biiiiiiiitcchhh!_

EXTREME CLOSE UP – MATTOCK BLADE

BENITO throws his all behind a powerful strike. The camera follows the head of the mattock as it plummets down on ANGELICA – instead of dodging, this time she blocks the blow by raising her forearm and catching the blade against it. She does not grunt or scream from the impact.

BENITO'S POV

BENITO sees that the mattock's blade has bit into ANGELICA's arm – but her quivering, shaking limb is astonishingly holding it there for all the pressure he's placing behind the strike, and there is little blood beyond a small stain around where her sleeve was torn by the impact.

**BENITO**

What the hell-?

His vision pans to ANGELICA's face, biting her lip – her expression is more emotionally hurt than actually pained. After a second to take her in, she raises her weapon from where it is held low in her other hand and points it at the camera.

REVERSE ANGLE

ANGELICA opens fire on full-auto and BENITO convulses and falls back out of shot in a spray of gore as dozens of rounds rip through him. CUT TO a frontal view of ANGELICA – the camera is momentarily obscured as BENITO's body falls down in extreme close up. There follows a quieter 'cooldown' moment. Her shoulders sag and she pants heavily, but she calms down, straightens up and wipes her brow – but with her injured arm. She squawks and looks horrified as she realises that she has just smeared blood over her face, and begin frantic scrubbing with her other sleeve.

CUT TO the last remaining trio of Padanians. They run past a long, open shed in which several body casts of Pompeii citizens buried in the original eruption have been laid out. The shadows of the runners play over the rough plaster effigies – and as they turn a corner, the sun makes the shadows rotate around and reach out – to HENRIETTA, standing in the middle of the street, square on, with her legs firmly planted apart and her silenced P90 held at port, ready for action. She is silent, imperturbable, and ominous.

The three Padanians hurriedly scrabble and brake at the sight of her, adopting tensed, wary stances, waiting for her next move. HENRIETTA takes a step forward – and they shuffle back. She takes another, deliberate, measured, pace – and they give ground again. It's like a wave running through a wire.

Eventually MASSINO is the first to snap. With a rising roar (which also helpfully telegraphs his attack), he fires as he raises his weapon, stitching a long line of impacts through the dirt. Note that MASSINO _must _carry a L34A1 suppressed Sterling submachine gun, so that the reports of his gunfire do not cause the disturbance that the Agency was seeking to avoid. In any case, HENRIETTA neatly pirouettes out of the line of fire (OLGA did always want to make her a ballerina), and as she gracefully spins around she snaps out her P90 with a thrust of her arm and punches a tight fist of rounds through MASSINO's chest. ANTONIO and BARRANT have already disappeared – they make to flee as MASSINO makes to fire.

QUICK CUT

ANTONIO and BARRANT are running along a rank of concrete and corrugated sheet-metal prefabricated artefact warehouses and equipment sheds. ANTONIO motions to BARRANT and both jump inside one, leaving the view.

**ANTONIO**

In here, we'll double-back after she's overshot!

INT. WAREHOUSE – DAY.

The warehouse is wide and low, with light provided by clear plastic panels in its corrugated roof. There are several aisles of shelves all filled with amphorae and other cheap pottery recovered from the excavation. The _mise en scene_ is dense with props. In the centre of the warehouse are two long rows of tables, filled with trays of potsherds and vases which are still being identified. BARRANT and ATONIO are on either side of these tables, puffing and panting from intense exertion.

CUT TO EXT. WAREHOUSE.

SFX – ANTIONIO AND BARRANT'S BREATHING AND HEARTBEATS. LOUD.

HENRIETTA is walking calmly down the length of the warehouses. ANGLE ON her ear to show her using her acute cybernetic senses to discern the Padanians' location. As she passes the doorframe of the Padanians' warehouse, she suddenly whips around and barges through it.

ANGLE ON – WAREHOUSE DOORFRAME FROM INTERIOR.

Bullets chew the doorframe as ANTONIO and BARRANT fling back retaliatory fire, but HENRIETTA is small and their aim is high, rounds flying over her head with a good foot of clearance. As HENRIETTA moves into the warehouse she fires her P90 in a sweeping arc, scything through a shelf of amphorae and blasting them to smithereens in great clouds of sherds and dust – and also cutting through and killing BARRANT, who is flung back against the shelves to send more boxes and jars smashing to the floor in a cacophonous destructive din.

ANTONIO'S POV

ANTONIO struggles to follow HENRIETTA as she runs down the long row of low tables on the far side of the warehouse to him – given her small size, she's difficult to see amidst all the equipment stacked up on them. He begins firing anyway.

QUICK CUT – ANGLE ON HENRIETTA

Focus on HENRIETTA behind the table as boxes and pottery explode off the table and patter over her from ANTONIO's fire, and she discards her empty P90 as she runs.

She wheels around the end of the row of tables and charges directly at ANTONIO. ANTONIO fires one last shot which snatches at HENRIETTA's hair, and then in final desperation grabs at an amphora and flings it at the cyborg. HENRIETTA punches the amphora and shatters it mid-flight, stepping forward through the spinning sherds and following-up by driving a second punch with a kidney-rupturing impact into ANTONIO's side. ANTONIO gargles in choked agony and falls to his knees – to meet a roundhouse-kick from HENRIETTA which snaps his head around, breaking his neck and flinging his body against a table, overturning it. His body settles amidst a heap of archaeological detritus.

HENRIETTA begins dusting her cardigan, apparently unperturbed by the intense, bloody, and destructive battle that she's been through. If anything troubles her, it's the mess – chewing her lip, she squats down and begins trying to scoop potsherds back into a tray.

CUT TO doorway – JOSE enters, his pistol drawn, although he immediately puts it up when he sees what's inside.

**JOSE**

Henrietta! Are you alright?

Suddenly blushing, HENRIETTA hurriedly stands upright and pats herself down again.

**HENRIETTA**

(mumbling)

I'm sorry, Jose, I've made a bit of a mess...

QUICK CUTS – BODIES OF BARRANT AND ANTONIO.

JOSE winces, but laughs it off and puts on a brave face for the benefit of his cyborg.

**JOSE**

Ah well, never mind, Henrietta – archaeology is the study of yesterday's rubbish and cast-offs, and now this is good typological fieldwork for all the students. You've done very well.

**HENRIETTA**

Thank you, Jose!

ANGLE ON a potsherd surrounded by a pool of blood.

DISSOLVE TO – MONTAGE

Section One crew with quiet, professional efficiency zip up the bodies of Padanians into bodybags.

Section One crew scrub bloodstains.

ANGELICA is picking up spent casings from when she killed BENITO, cradling them in one hand and gingerly plucking them from the ground with her thumb and forefinger with the other. One slips out of her grasp – as she reaches out for it, the others tinkle to the ground. ANGELICA emits a cute squeak of dismay and begins floundering after them, an example of 'dojikko' endearingly childish clumsiness juxtaposed with her gathering tools of war instead of school stationery from a pencil case.

The surviving Padanians and cuffed and shoved into the plain white people-carriers that the Agency uses as runabouts. Cyborgs sit beside them.

INTERCUT with shots of tourists visiting the public areas of Pompeii, blissfully unaware of the high drama that has been enacted on merely the other side of the walls.

END MONTAGE

JEAN watches one of the prisoner-carrying vehicles depart while he speaks into a mobile telephone.

**JEAN**

(businesslike)

The mission is a complete success, sir. Our cover was not compromised, two cyborgs received minor damage – nine Padanians killed and four captured.

**LORENZO (O.S., TELEPHONE)**

Unlucky thirteen, eh? Very well, leave the...

CUT TO – EXT. SOCIAL WELFARE AGENCY, DAY.

CLOSE UP – LORENZO AND MOBILE PHONE.

Lorenzo is walking along a path in the Agency grounds, with FERRO beside him.

**LORENZO (CONT'D)**

...bodies to be processed by Section One and get all of the fratelli back to the Naples safehouse for debriefing and rearming. We'll have to move quickly to sweep up the remains of the terrorist cell.

**JEAN (O.S. TELEPHONE)**

Already on the move, sir.

LORENZO sighs as he ends the call.

**FERRO**

Bad news?

**LORENZO**

(wearied)

Just another turn of the wheel, Miss. Milani.

LORENZO and FERRO continue walking on. ZOOM OUT to show ESTABLISHING SHOTS of the Agency grounds.

CUT TO - INT. PROFESSOR'S OFFICE – DAY.

EXTREME CLOSE UP – CEILING SMOKE DETECTOR

PROFESSOR clumsily fumbles at the casing of the smoke detector, eventually forcing out the battery and deactivating it. With frantic, breathless, panicky QUICK CUTS, show a short MONTAGE SEQUENCE of PROFESSOR ripping up and burning various incriminating papers, and stuffing others into a briefcase. The final shot in the sequence looks from the door of his office, showing the PROFESSOR with his head bent over the desk and the burning wastepaper bin smouldering on one side. As the camera slowly ZOOMS OUT, ALESSANDRO's hand, carrying an unlit cigarette, enters the frame.

**ALESSANDRO (O.S.)**

Got a light?

PROFESSOR stops abruptly and jerks up, a rabbit in the headlights. The door is open (we can assume that ALESSANDRO used a lock-pick – or maybe the PROFESSOR in his panic forgot to close it properly. How the door is open isn't an important detail) and ALESSANDRO is slouched against the doorframe, wearing a faint, gently condescending smile and with one hand in his pocket. His whole pose is one of studied insouciance. PROFESSOR, for once, is completely flummoxed. ALESSANDRO shrugs from the lack of a response, and begins lighting the cigarette himself as he walks into the room. PROFESSOR shrinks away. ALESSANDRO's line references James Bond's challenge and counter-sign in _Dr. No_, for those with keener ears.

**ALESSANDRO**

In fact, never mind, I prefer a lighter over a match anyway.

PROFESSOR's jaw works for a moment, struggling to form words before something eventually bubbles up from his roiling stomach.

**PROFESSOR**

Who... who are you?

ALESSANDRO is studying the various posters and charts pinned up to the walls, taking down a book and flicking through it idly, but he stops to glance back at PROFESSOR.

**ALESSANDRO**

Well, you're the smart college boy, you tell me.

PROFESSOR bites his lip and looks down, trying not to tremble before this insolently relaxed and insultingly congenial harbinger of his terrible and final doom. Truly, the Devil is a gentleman. Eventually, falling back on a lifetime of regularity to support himself, he mumbles.

**PROFESSOR**

(quietly)

_Sutor, ne ultra crepidam._

**ALESSANDRO**

(guffawing)

"Cobbler, go no further than the sandal"? I might translate it as "Academic, don't pretend to be a terrorist ringleader."

**PROFESSOR**

I... wouldn't know what you're talking about.

**ALESSANDRO**

(motioning to the smouldering bin)

Does tenure not cover the heating bill?

**PROFESSOR**

(lame)

Just... being tidy. Getting rid of some of the clutter?

By this point ALESSANDRO has moved around the other side of the desk to PROFESSOR, and looks out of the window. PROFESSOR's floundering is beneath his concern.

**ALESSANDRO**

Of course. _Quod non est in actis, non est in mundo._

**PROFESSOR**

(Hopeful note entering voice)

You seem to be a learned sort. Did you study...

**ALESSANDRO**

(interrupting, holding up an iPhone, or other device for whoever will pay for the product placement)

No. Wikiquote.

A stunned beat passes. PROFESSOR guffaws, the laugh bursting out from him under pressure. Both he and ALESSANDRO snicker, chuckle, and then burst into open, absurd laughter. PROFESSOR leans forward over the desk, as though he's doubling up with mirth. His laughter takes on a manic edge, his smiles suddenly stretch into a snarl and a rising roar of rage bursts out from underneath his rage. With a violent, snapping movement he pulls a pistol from a concealed position underneath the desk and swings it round to ALESSANDRO.

**PROFESSOR**

Ha ha ha ha haaaaa_AAAARRRGGGHH!_

Before PROFESSOR can fire another shot smashes through the window of his office with a crash of glass and a loud report, ripping into his hand and swatting away the pistol and a chunk of his palm. The shooter cannot be seen. ALESSANDRO starts a little – he's not an impassive character – but he was expecting this, and doesn't make any wild exaggerated take in reaction to the sudden event. PROFESSOR falls across his desk, cradling his bloody hand and seething with blinding, tearful pain. ALESSANDRO watches him for an analytical second and then moves back to the office door.

**ALESSANDRO**

Okay, it's done.

A doctor and two uniformed National Police enter the room.

DISSOLVE TO - EXT. UNIVERSITY – DAY.

The two policemen from the previous scene escort PROFESSOR down the steps of a main entrance towards a waiting catch-wagon. PROFESSOR'S injured hand has been bandaged, and he looks ashen, shrunken and miserable. Other police keep back a large crowd of students and other onlookers. The atmosphere is subdued – everyone's eyes are wide-opened in incredulous astonishment, pressing forward to get a better look but not rowdy or violent.

PROFESSOR'S POV – PANNING AROUND CROWD.

ANGLE ON – OPEN CATCH-WAGON DOOR.

It's a dark maw waiting to consume him.

REVERSE ANGLE

Whatever colour remained in the PROFESSOR leaches from it as he steps towards the camera. CUT to an up-angle from the ground to a roof overlooking the scene. RICO is visible, looking down, resting her arms on the edge of the roof. CRASH ZOOM to RICO and PAN slowly up the length of her visible torso, her gentle, contented smile and her short hair lightly tousled by the wind.

QUICK CUT – FLASHBACK – SHOT OF RICO ON VESUVIUS THEN RETURN TO PRESENT DAY.

ANGLE ON - PROFESSOR

Looking down on PROFESSOR from above. His face does a take in sudden recognition of RICO, before he is shoved into the catch-wagon and disappears from view.

CUT TO – ROOFTOP

The view has ZOOMED OUT to an over-the-shoulder view of RICO as she looks down on the catch-wagon starting up and making its way through the crowd of onlookers.

**JEAN (O.S.)**

(angry, interjecting)

_Rico!_

RICO turns her head back to look behind her, as JEAN reaches an arm from out-of-frame and roughly yanks her backwards, pulling the cyborg to her feet and shoving her towards the Dragunov which lies on a shooting mat nearby. It is a brusque movement which indirectly illustrates JEAN's terse manner and the utilitarian way with which he handles his cyborg.

**JEAN**

(snapping)

Stop _gawping_ and start packing your weapon away, this wasn't a _social call_.

RICO gets down on her knees. She turns to JEAN and flashes a bright, sunny smile, completely untroubled and unperturbed by his rough handling.

**RICO**

Won't be a second, Jean!

RICO begins disassembling the Dragunov with swift, efficient, precise and controlled movements. You could well imagine her being a robot on an assembly line. Linger on RICO's activity for a few moments – the high-fidelity components of the weapon provide some loving gun fetishism for the firearms-enthusiast section of the fanbase.

DISSOLVE TO – UNIVERSITY EXTERNAL STAIRWAY. DAY.

The bottom of the stone stairway leads around the back of the building and down to a road. PAN DOWN the length of the stairs, following RICO and JEAN making their way down. RICO, her weapon concealed in a bag on her back, hops down with an eager spring in her step, humming tunelessly to herself. JEAN plods behind her at a steadier pace. At the bottom, a plain white and unmarked people-carrier with tinted windows waits. JOSE opens the cabin door as the fratello approaches – while RICO skips into the passenger compartment, JEAN actually enters the front passenger door instead.

CUT TO – VEHICLE INTERIOR.

RICO slides into the back seat, where HENRIETTA is already sitting. HENRIETTA smiles and greets RICO warmly as she buckles up – she's taken her lessons!

**HENRIETTA**

Hi, Rico! How did it go?

RICO punches the air in front of her playfully to enunciate her words.

**RICO**

Really well, Henrietta! One shot – bang on!

JOSE is sitting in the middle row of the people-carrier. He leans an arm over the backrest and turns to the two cyborgs in the back row, and maintains the genial atmosphere with a friendly smile of his own.

**JOSE**

Well, congratulations, Rico. That sounds like it's worth an extra scoop at dessert!

RICO cheers happily, bouncing in her seat. Seeing attention slip away from her, HENRIETTA does a take and then leans forward, tremulous anxiety in her voice.

**HENRIETTA**

Er, er, er, what about me, Jose? Can I have some too?

**JOSE**

(laughing gently)

Well, it wouldn't be much of a reward if we gave it to everyone, would it now?

HENRIETTA looks dismayed. RICO leans over and shakes her in a joshing, matey way.

**RICO**

Never mind, 'Etta! You can have some of mine.

**HENRIETTA**

(distressed; tearful)

But... but... I wouldn't want to spoil your special treat...

**JOSE**

(sigh of defeat)

Oh, go on then, Henrietta, you've twisted my arm.

**HENRIETTA**

(immediately brightening)

Thank you, Jose!

CUT TO – FRONT SEATS.

ALESSANDRO is in the driver's seat while JEAN remains in the front passenger seat. ALESSANDRO leans across to JEAN.

**ALESSANDRO **

(whispering conspiratorially)

"Twisted my arm"? Wrapped around her little finger, more like.

JEAN does not turn back to look into the passenger compartment, but adjusts the rear-view mirror and calls aloud.

**JEAN**

(stern)

Lieutenant Croce! Don't encourage them!

(To ALESSANDRO)

Drive already.

CUT TO – ROAD.

The camera is situated behind the car and looks on as it starts up and sets off down the road. HENRIETTA and RICO natter, their voices fading with distance.

**HENRIETTA**

Isn't this place amazing, Rico? All the buildings, they're so pretty!

**RICO**

Yeah, all that swirly scroll stuff they have on the corners are good ligature points...

PAN UP – SKY

DISSOLVE TO - ENDING CREDITS

"NEXT EPISODE" MONTAGE

FIN.

* * *

><p>THE END<p> 


End file.
